


Toothwheels

by meatbagSu



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Reverse!Mercy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 01:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9049471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meatbagSu/pseuds/meatbagSu
Summary: I honestly have no idea where this will take us.I chanced upon Heronfoot’s Reverse!Mercy AU art on Tumblr and fell in love with the concept of it.Like how the moon pulls the tide, I couldn’t stop musing about it all day, lots of what-ifs playing through my head. Thinking that perhaps it’s going to end up as a short drabble I fleshed out points here and there before belatedly realising that perhaps it was getting a tad bit too long to be considered one, I doubt it’ll end up with 273793585 chapters like the prolific writers here and honestly speaking, I haven’t an inkling if it’ll be good or bad.You be the judge of that.I haven’t written in a really long time so do forgive me if you catch any inconsistencies or mistakes.I’m very much in for the ride together with you as well dear reader, for my brain is a fickle little monster.I can only hope you’ll enjoy the journey at the very least.May she have Mercy on all our souls.su.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea where this will take us.  
> I chanced upon Heronfoot’s Reverse!Mercy AU art on Tumblr and fell in love with the concept of it.  
> Like how the moon pulls the tide, I couldn’t stop musing about it all day, lots of what-ifs playing through my head. Thinking that perhaps it’s going to end up as a short drabble I fleshed out points here and there before belatedly realising that perhaps it was getting a tad bit too long to be considered one, I doubt it’ll end up with 273793585 chapters like the prolific writers here and honestly speaking, I haven’t an inkling if it’ll be good or bad.  
> You be the judge of that.  
> I haven’t written in a really long time so do forgive me if you catch any inconsistencies or mistakes.  
> I’m very much in for the ride together with you as well dear reader, for my brain is a fickle little monster.  
> I can only hope you’ll enjoy the journey at the very least.  
> May she have Mercy on all our souls.  
> su.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She has a tendency to gravitate to the dead and dying.  
> Has she dug herself into something deeper and darker than she expected with Jane Doe?

“Talk to me.”  
  
She murmured quietly to the body lying on the metal table, eyeing it dispassionately before glancing at the heart sitting in the chest cavity. Cut open with a large Y shaped incision running from the chest all the way down to the belly, this person was definitely, very much dead.  
  
Jane Doe is now her new name.  
  
No one knew who she was, or where she came from.  
Her body had been found dumped unceremoniously at a playground stuffed up a tube slide, covered in injuries and devoid of any form of identification; even fingerprints. In place of it were raw bloody flesh, the pad of the fingers cleanly sliced off. The sound of the children's shrieking and crying filled the air that morning. Imagine how the young child must have felt as he scooted down the slide only to find his progress hindered by someone who appeared to be sleeping and unresponsive. The growing horror building up to a crescendo as he clambered down past Jane Doe in an attempt to wake her up before he finally broke and let loose a hysterical scream when he finally looked at her proper and realised that she was bloody and no longer alive.  
It would take the child months of therapy to get over the trauma, and even then he still gives the playground a wide berth if he could.  
  
Dipping a finger in Jane Doe's blood, she gazed at it impassively before closing her left eye, methodically swabbing a streak of blood over the eyelid before waiting a moment to open it again. The world before her now bathed in a cloudy haze of red.  
But not one that was anchored in the present instance.

  
Drawn into the scene before her eye, she could sense fear.  
Felt the victim try and flex her arms.  
Tied up.  
Stretch her legs.  
Movement restricted.  
Limbs bound, mouth gagged.  
A metallic tang in her mouth.  
Pain, searing in her neck.  
Voices in the background.  
Muffled.  
What on earth was going on here?  
  
“Hey, she’s waking up again. I thought she would’ve died already after all we’ve done to her! Guess you win this round!” Disbelief mixed with grudging admiration, the sound of paper rustling in the dark; money changing hands.  
“C’mon then! That means we can go another round right? Ya think she’ll live or die this time boo?” Hopeful, anticipant.  
“Meh, still the same as before. She’s bound to die sooner or later.” Thoughtful, pensive.  
“Ey whaddabout you then? What do you think?” asked Hopeful to someone else.  
“I’d rather not be a part of this please, it doesn’t feel right.” Reluctance with a hint of petulance.  
“Pshhh, ever the goody two shoes aren’t you? Well like it or not you’re stuck with us! Useless shit!” Hopeful drawled disdainfully. “C’mon! Let’s continue this already!” Impatience setting in as a clank of metal chains sang out from the gloom.  
  
A discernible feeling of terror was crawling through the air, heavy with the stale tang of sour sweat and puke.  
Unless Jane Doe happened to be into weird kinky sex, this was no accidental death at all.  
  
She blinked, breaking the link. Drew in a slow deep breath, perturbed. Tried to get her bearings straight, affirm that she was indeed back in the current world again.  
Harsh cold light glared down from the ceiling, air conditioner rattling noisily in the background; disinfectant permeating the air while fridges containing bodies gleamed back at her, quietly humming.  
It was only her and just the dead for company.  
  
She looked down again at the body lying before her, studying the wound on the neck. Finally comprehending why it had been inflicted on a minor vein instead of the jugular, which would have brought about a quicker death. The wound was deep and precise, well calculated. This was not just some mindless stab and slash in the name of revenge nor was this a trivial robbery for material gain. The victim had deliberately been bled out slowly to prolong her death, and perhaps in as much pain as possible, she thought wryly as she regarded the injuries that had been inflicted on the body.  
Purple black bruises on the chest, brownish red welts on her face, burn marks on the inside of her arms, most likely blood aspirated into the lungs as well if she checked.  
All these torment for a stupid, childish bet.

  
Sighing heavily to herself, dry breath exhaling in a little puff. What on earth has she gotten herself into?  
She has had enough for the night.  
  
Picking up a needle and thread, she proceeded to deftly suture the incisions closed; taking pride in finishing what she started. Finally tied the thread up in a knot and snipped it. It was not as neat as she would have wanted but it will have to do. Dawn is but a couple of hours away and she was technically breaking and entering. It would be too much hassle to explain herself to security. After all, it was already bad enough to be caught trespassing, but in the middle of sewing a body closed as well? Always a big no-no regardless of whether you were trying to be helpful or not.  
  
Grabbing a pad of sticky notes off a nearby table, she scribbled: _Krista Miles_ , in black ink, ripped off the top sheet and pressed it firmly to Krista’s forehead, the unmistakable yellow standing out brightly like a beacon. Carefully worked the Jane Doe i.d bracelet off Krista’s wrist before finally wearing it on her own, satisfied.  
Retrieved her black bomber jacket hanging off a chair and shrugged it on, wanting nothing more right now than to go home and sleep and forget about this whole mess.  
  
Squatting down to a half crouch beside Krista to lean in to her ear, she said softly: “I hope they can find your family, give you a proper burial at least. Sorry that I wouldn't do more but this is the least I can do for you somewhat. That, and perhaps it’s time to send you on before you get stuck in between.”  
Straightening up, waiting patiently in anticipation as the faintest of glows gradually bloomed to life and revealed itself to her. A tiny flame, protected by a translucent orb had emerged from Krista, wavering; ember red fissures crackling and sputtering all over it's surface.  
  
Dying.  
  
Regarding it coolly, she gently smoothed back Krista’s hair before finally scooping the flame up in her palm.  
“Off you go then.” She whispered.  
Closing her hand hard to clench a fist before abruptly opening it again, splaying her fingers. A fine dusting of grey ash fluttered down, the flame extinguished.  
Sighing again, she proceeded to pull on black leather gloves; hiding away hands that have seen better days, concealing bluish-black fingertips that would raise eyebrows and invite probing questions. All of which she would rather avoid if she could.  
  
It was time for her to take her leave.  
Switching off the lights, she locked the doors behind her before pulling it shut. Walked away languidly into the darkness, boots crunching in the gravel, a tuneless song humming on her lips.  
Lost in thought as she replayed the strange encounter she experienced that night. She had barely gone far when she sensed someone falling in step beside her, felt a hand seeking hers, fingers intertwining. Cool but reassuring.  
  
“Ange, are you alright chérie?” mild concern etched in her voice.  
“Schatzli! How long have you been waiting here for?” Angela asked, a small smile quirking on her lips.  
“Time is of no importance, as long you’re safe that is all that matters. When you were not home again, I figured you’d probably popped in on one of the morgues around somewhere and lost track of time again. Thought that perhaps I ought to look for you and fetch you home when you were done. Found anything interesting?” Amélie queried, pulling Angela in to press a kiss to her temple, nuzzling her at the same time while breathing in the scent of her hair- jasmine mingled with a light undertone of dead people, paused in an afterthought; “Chérie, perhaps you could take a bath later once we’re home. You’ve been hanging around the dead all night, they don’t exactly smell the nicest.”  
“I could I suppose.” Angela agreed, “but what I’d really like right now is food, or sleep. I can’t decide honestly.”

  
Chuckling as they came to a stop by a lone bike currently occupying a space in the empty parking lot, “A hot bath, and some food. THEN you can sleep.” she said firmly, handing Angela a helmet before wearing one herself. “You can tell me who you met today while I whip something up for you.”  
Angela groaned while stifling a yawn, the need to sleep clearly taking precedence now. Slipping her arms around Amélie’s waist as she got on the bike, a quaking rumble filled the air as it roared to life, “Try not to doze off now chérie, it won’t be fun if you were to slip off halfway while we’re heading home.” Amélie warned, arching an eyebrow sardonically, "I'd have to make a U-turn and drop your body off here again if that happens." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it!  
> The beginnings of what may or may not be crap!  
> If you guys have ideas or questions to contribute to help improve or expand future chapters, or even just to say hi, feel free to comment here or email me privately at meatbagsu@yahoo.com if you’re shy. I can’t estimate when I’ll post a new chapter because I’m one of those people perpetually stuck in a limbo of writing and re-editing her work…. toss in adulting duties and how my line of work burns my weekends away sometimes.....you get the drift. :X  
> Stand to win a macadamia nut chocolate chip cookie if you can correctly guess my career! :P  
> Story title is Toothwheels by Múm, chapter title Stand by Me by Florence + the Machine, a cover of Ben E. King's song.


End file.
